The Burning Times
by Shadowbox N. Paperchase
Summary: Morgan McGowan, an extraordinarily gifted empath comes to live at Xavier's as his personal assistant. Takes place before X-Men 2. Would outcomes be decidedly different if Morgan was there the night that Stryker attacked? AU from Empathic Evolution
1. Prologue: The Back Story

**Chapter 1: Prologue The Back Story**

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men franchise or anything Tolkien related. No money is made from anything that I do here. This is for entertainment purposes only and it keeps me off the streets. Morgan McGowan is mine.

In my story Empathic Evolution, Morgan McGowan, an extraordinarily gifted empath comes to live at Xavier's as his personal assistant. This story takes place after Jean Grey's death at Alkali Lake. So, I've been batting this idea around for a while: Morgan accepts a job from Charles before the storyline of XMen2 begins.

Could outcomes be decidedly different if Morgan was at the school the night that Stryker attacked? Can one person change everything? Can one person really make a difference?

So here's the back-story from my story Empathic Evolution to belay any confusion.

* * *

Morgan McGowan is the only child of Neal and Rose McGowan. She was born to a family that can trace their lineage to the tenth century Ireland, and almost every one of her ancestors and living relatives are gifted, she herself is empathic (can read and control others emotions) and clairvoyant (can communicate and see the dead). Others in her family are precognitive (see the future), telepathic (reads the minds of others), telekinetic (move objects with a thought), etc. Morgan's mother passed away suddenly when she was sixteen from breast cancer, the grief of her mother's passing along with her wildly fluctuating hormones that typifies puberty, caused her empathy to careen out of control.

Charles Xavier, an old friend of the McGowan's, accepted Morgan as a student to the Xavier's Institute, to teach her how to control her gift, even though she was not a mutant herself. Morgan spent six months living with the five original mutant students-Scott, Hank, Jean, Ororo and Warren.

Scott and Morgan had issues with each other, from the day they met-mostly due to Scott's burgeoning leadership and Morgan's issues with authority. Hank and Jean got along famously with Morgan; they tended to treat her like the little sister. Ororo didn't really have any type of relationship with Morgan; she was more focused on her controlling her own powers. Warren and Morgan were at each other's throats from day one, but that didn't stop Morgan from losing her virginity to Warren-once the situation presented itself. She didn't stop hating him even doing the actual act- she just really appreciated him for his looks.

Morgan quickly learned to control her empathy, and use the shields that Charles taught her to build. It wasn't long before the other part of her gifts, reared its ugly head. She was attacked by a poltergeist in the Danger Room, and it was decided that she needed to go someplace where she could learn to control that aspect of her abilities. Charles and Neal located an organization in London called the Talamasca; they were reputed to be an expert in this arena. Morgan left Xavier's and moved to London where she learned to control her clairvoyance.

She stayed with the Talamasca for fourteen years, where she worked as a paranormal investigators after earning her degree from Goldsmiths, University of London in Anomalistic psychology. She met, fell in love with, and married a fellow member, Jonathon Saif Patel. They chose to put off having any children, thinking that they had all the time in world. Regrettably, two years into their marriage, Morgan was seriously injured in a car accident that claimed Jonathon's life.

After Jonathon's death, Morgan lacked the focus to be effective in the field, therefore her mentor, David Talbot, reassigned her as his personal assistant, hoping the change would ground her. David disappeared mysteriously six month later, leaving Morgan feeling lost and without purpose. She decided to leave the Talamasca and move back into her father's home in New York City.

She drifted for a while, spending most of her days intoxicated, exhausted, frustrated and depressed. She spent most of her nights clubbing at the many NYC hotspots.

Neal watched his daughter slip deeper and deeper into a destructive lifestyle that was serving one function- Morgan was searching desperately for purpose. After a heart to heart conversation with his old friend Charles Xavier over a long lunch, Charles contacted his former student and offered her a position at his school as his personal assistant.

Morgan's mother believed that everyone should be bilingual, and she insisted that Morgan learn French, she began these language studies when she was four years old. She is fluent. She learned Latin while living at the Talamasca motherhouse (a requirement of all members). She is Irish sword aficionado, she began practicing and training when she was eight years old-after seeing pictures in an old family book. She has never quite understood this obsession of hers.

Shortly after to moving into the Institute, Morgan began dating Remy LeBeau.


	2. The Fall of Osgiliath

**Chapter 2: The Fall of Osgiliath**

War is loud, even without the movie soundtrack.

Metal swords clashing together, the whoosh of arrows flying overhead, the blood thirsty cries of the enemy, the anguished screams of the dying; the din alone could cause your death. Morgan was thoroughly impressed. Scott had really outdone himself on this program; his attention to detail was fantastic. This truly was the world of Tolkien or at least Peter Jackson's version of it. The computer-generated Orcs were truly frightening; and it amused Morgan to no end that even their breath smelled bad. It felt like this particular program, 'The Fall of Osgiliath', was written just for her, especially now that she figured out how to turn all of the safeties off. Scott expressly told her to never turn the safeties off, for her own protection, and then all but told her how to do it. That was a carrot dangle if she ever saw one.

It was just two weeks ago that Scott finally brought her down to the Danger Room to show her the advancement of their technology. Morgan was thrilled. It felt like she was being brought back into the inner circle.

Your training simulations are boring and unimaginative, she told him, hoping to get his back up, praying that if she provoked he would actually show her what she knows he is so excited about.

"I expected so much more of you, Scott Summers. After fifteen years, this is the best that you've got," she teased. Wait a minute, ah there it is... Annoyance. He has taken the bait.

"Morgan, stop pushing me," he replied, tapping his fingers against the computer keyboard, and his left eyebrow rose above his glasses, "Yeah, I know what you are doing. I'm not sixteen anymore, and I am pretty now wise to your ways."

Scott chuckled at Morgan's attempt to pout as Jean rolled her eyes at them. They seemed to get along much better than used to; apparently, a little maturity goes a long way. At first, she wasn't so sure that Charles's plan to offer Morgan a job at this school was a good one. It wasn't that Jean disliked Morgan, quite the contrary, it was just Morgan had some serious issues. Or at least she used to. All and all, she seems to be a pretty well adjusted person, considering what she had recently gone through. It hadn't take Morgan long to find her niche, she needs us as much as we need her, Jean thought to herself.

"Scott, stop being so difficult_, and just show her_," Jean laughed as she smacked Scott on the arm, "you're such a big tease. This is why you brought her down here. You know you found the one person who is geeky enough to appreciate this. Besides Hank."

Scott reached over and tapped several lines of code into the computer before a menu appeared on the screen. Morgan glanced over at the monitor and took a deep breath in, and actually bounced in her seat, grinning madly.

"Scott, is that program really the Battle… for…Gondor? Really?"

Scott's smile matched Morgan's as he nodded.

"You are truly a god among men. I take back everything that I have ever said about you." Morgan said, bowing her head to him.

Jean stood up, leaned over and kissed Scott on top of the head.

"I can see where this one is leading; I will leave you two alone."

He waited until Jean left because he already knew that she never wanted to hear anything ever again about Gondor, Orcs, Elves, Dwarfs, Nazgûls, or the Uruk-hai.

"I thought you would truly appreciate this one. A couple of my students the other day were talking that they saw you in the clearing, practicing with your sword. I'd forgotten that you were into that. So…"

"So you thought that I would appreciate a battle simulation that involved sword play and the world of Tolkien?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Oh fuck me!"

Morgan quickly ducked her head, narrowly avoiding a possibly lethal club strike. She didn't even see the Orc until he was practically was on top of her. Pay attention, you idiot! Or turn the safeties back on; if your head is not in this battle, she scolded herself. With a fiendish smile, Morgan drove her sword through the Orc's chest cavity. Great founts of foul smelling black blood poured out when she pulled it back.

"Gross," she muttered to herself, "at least they can't shit themselves as well."

The fight raged on around her, frightened horses screaming in terror, the moans of fallen men begging for a quick end to their suffering. Morgan gasped in surprise when an older man covered her flank, as an Orc got too close to her back. Madril was his name.

"Thanks Madril, I owe you one," she yelled, smiling at him. She pulled a knife from one of her holsters that hung from her belt and flung it at the back of the retreating Orc. Morgan loves the fact that the computer also generates a costume, over her own clothing. Even though, the leather and chainmail is only an illusion, it really sets the flavor of the battle.

The best program, ever!

"We can't hold them. The city is lost, milady!" he shouted back at her as his sword crossed with an Uruk-hai, one of the really big gargantuan Orcs, Morgan returned the favor and lopped the creature's head off. Madril leaped over a massive heap of bodies, crossed a small clearing to shout at Faramir. He is the field leader of this battle and the son of the Steward of Minas Tirith.

"This is such a cluster fuck!" She yelled, chuckling. They both looked back over at her puzzled. Oops! Broke character!

"Tell the men to break cover. We ride for Minas Tirith." Faramir shouted. Oh, she had almost forgotten that this particular battle was a lost one, this was the city near the river that was overrun by Orcs, and the men retreated back to the white city of Minas Tirith. I really need to watch the movie, The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, before I do this program again, she thought to herself. She had forgotten way too much.

She dove under a fallen piece of stone when she heard the hellish scream from over head accompanied by the shouted warning: 'Nazgûls!'

"Take cover!"

It was while she was hiding under a slab of stone when _she felt it._ Someone was here; in fact, a lot of some bodies were here. She scrambled out and stood with her head cocked to the side, concentrating.

"What is that?" she asked no one in particular.

"It is the Nazgûls! Take cover!"

"Oh for fuck sake! Computer! Pause program!" Morgan shouted to make sure that she was heard over the clamor.

The simulation instantly froze. She fully opened her shields and used her empathy to ascertain, just what she was feeling. Morgan knew that there was some new guy at the mansion, who just got there this afternoon. A mutant named Logan. But that was not who she was feeling. She had picked up on him a few hours back. He was a very angry man, who apparently knew how too push Scott's buttons. Just one mention of the name 'Logan' would send Scott into a seething tirade with a lot of gnashing of his teeth, and sulking. Morgan knew jealousy when she felt it.

Something was not right; she could feel a lot of different people quickly coming near the mansion.

"Computer! End program. Open the door."

Morgan strode towards the opening and left the Danger Room, her computer generated costume disappeared the moment she crossed the doorjamb. She sheathed her sword in her back holster as she jogged towards the Security Room, where she knew she'd be able to take a look at the monitors.

"Holy mother," she whispered aloud, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

Morgan's blood ran cold. There were armed soldiers on every monitor screen labeled 'exterior grounds'. Obviously, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was currently under attack. She noted that all of the 'interior' monitor screens were clear of intruders. But clearly not for long.

What to do? She quickly considered her options; she knew that no one is here, none of the X-Men. Charles and Scott went to talk to Magneto, and they are not back yet. Wait! They should have returned hours ago. Jean and Ororo went to Boston to check out that mutant that attacked the President. Remy is in New York City, on a fact finding mission. That leaves that guy Logan, the kids, and herself. Morgan was pretty sure that they knew that most of the powerful mutants were not here, no one with any intelligence on this place was that stupid. Without even thinking, she opened her cell phone, and called Remy, mildly surprised that she actually had any cell coverage, down here in the subbasement.

"Pickup…pick up…pick up…"

"Lo cheré, y' callin' me for some late night phone sex?" a honeyed voice answered.

Morgan took a deep breath and tried to force the terror from her voice.

"Remy…"

"What's wrong?" Even though they had not been dating very long, he could tell just by the sound of her voice that something was very wrong.

"There are soldiers here."

"Where? Where are y'?"

"At the school. There about twenty soldiers outside, I can see all them on the monitors. Fuck, Remy! I don't know what to do!"

"Where's everyone else? Cyke and Jean, Stormy, de Professor?"

"No one is here, Remy. Only that Logan guy."

"Merde. Wait! Y' are down in de security room, right? Are y' armed?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, for the fucking eleventh century." She snapped at him, her eyes following the soldiers' progress, one was now using a glass cutter to cut a hole in window so that he could silently open it.

"Okay, just stay calm. Can y' get yourself to de Weapons room?"

That brought her back some. Weapons room? What Weapons room?

"There are guns here, Remy?" she asked incredulously. That surprised her more than anything. Charles Xavier allowed guns at the school? What else is down here?

"Yeah dere are. Oh shit, y' don't have a code."

"Well fucking give me yours!" she yelled into her phone.

"I can't Morgan, it's a retinal scan."

"Fuck!"

"It's goin' to be okay, just let me think," he paused, "can y' get to my room? I have a couple of Desert Eagles hidden in my floorboards."

"Oh my God, Remy. They're in... There is no way I can make it back to your room now."

"D'accord. Y' need to find yourself a hidin' spot."

"That's not fucking likely…" she took a startled breath in, "they just shot Jones! I can't stay here. I have to go do something!"

She could now hear him loudly cussing in the background.

"Remy, I'm going."

There was silence on the other end of the line, except for his breathing.

"Bye," she whispered.

"Wait. Morgan? Look...if y' get de chance for de kill, y' take it. Because...they will. I am leavin' now. I'll be dere in about forty minutes."


	3. Murderer

**Chapter 3: Murderer**

Morgan tried to keep her breathing even and calm as the elevator shot up from the subbasement to the first floor. She could feel sweat running unpleasantly down the middle of her back, she used her shirt to wipe it from her brow. Terror was now permeating her senses; she began to block everyone that she knew, concentrating and honing in on only the soldiers.

When the elevator door dinged announcing its arrival, Morgan steeled herself for attack, crouching down, sword raised. The last thing that was expecting was the startled, piercing, blue eyes of Bobby Drake staring back at her. She quickly pulled him in and pushed the button to close the door.

"Are you hurt, Bobby?" She asks, giving him a once over. He just looked scared.

"No."

"How many soldiers did you see down here?"

"I don't know, Logan… killed …one…in the kitchen," he replied, his voice hitching. Morgan's heart went out to him; no child should ever see anything like that. Charles will have to bring in a slew of therapists, to help everyone deal with this shit. If any of us happen to survive. No time for this now. Morgan shoved as much courage and bravery into Bobby that she could. His face took on a steely look, his back straightened, and he pulled his shoulders back.

"Now," she grabbed his chin to make sure that he was looking in her eyes, "that was not for you to do anything stupid or get any bright ideas, Bobby. You get your ass upstairs, grab as many of the kids as you can, and get the fuck out. Got it?"

"What about you?" he whispered, glancing down at the sword before meeting her eyes again.

She shook her head, stood on her toes, leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, he blushed. She smiled as she shoved him over to the control panel, giving him at least one foot of solid metal for protection, before hitting the button to open the door. She knew there weren't any soldiers too close to the elevator, but she wasn't going to take any chances. Morgan quickly hopped out and ran for the first room she saw, a bathroom. She breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator door closed. Morgan hoped that that when Bobby got to the second floor, he won't be facing a soldier when that door reopened. She flattened herself against a wall by the door and waited. She didn't have to wait long.

Two thoughts screamed through her head as she hit a soldier with lethargy, took advantage of his inability to move, and thrust her sword through his chest. One was that human flesh easily parts over sharpened steel. The second was she just executed another human being in cold blood. She is a murderer.

The soldier fell forward onto Morgan knocking her backwards into the wall. She pushed him back and tried to pull her sword out. She had to exert a great deal of effort to pull the blade back out. No one ever told her that. When the soldier fell to the floor, blood began pouring out of his body. She felt bile burning the back of her throat. Morgan turned away from the corpse but not before seeing the man's eyes staring blankly up at her.

"Don't ignore the light," she murmured, "it won't wait long for you."

She crept down the darkened hallway that was littered with the bodies of soldiers. I think Logan did this, she thought disdainfully. Yeah, like you are any better, you hypocrite!

Coming up to a corner, she carefully peered around it. Morgan could feel one of them nearby, but unfortunately, she could not judge his distance. She tried not to scream when she came face to face with a very large gun. Morgan jumped back and flooded the area with fear and lethargy. When she heard the sound of something heavy drop to the floor, she crouched low to the ground, turned her sword towards her chest and flipped it sideways. She took a deep breath, jumped and thrust out. She did not miss. The blood sprayed over her hands. Morgan tried not at his eyes this time.

Morgan was not expecting what happened next. One moment she was creeping silently down the hallway, gingerly stepping over bodies. The next she found herself pinned against a wall, a hand around her throat and three shiny metal blades dangerously close to her face. Without even thinking, she shoved calm into her captor, praying it was enough to get through to him before he skewered her.

"Please don't kill me," she whispered, catching his eyes. The three blades retreated into his hand but he did not release her.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Morgan, Morgan McGowan. Umm...you're Logan, right?"

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, sniffing the air.

"Are ya a student?" He asked gruffly.

"No, I'm staff. Charles's personal assistant. Could you please stop choking me?"

He quickly glanced down the hallway as he snatched Morgan's hand and pulled her into a nearby room and closed the door. He gave her a once over with his eyes, raising a brow at her gory sword. He grabbed her hand and brought it in front of her face, she winced at the blood.

"Hurt?"

"No, that's not mine," she replied softly, looking away from her hand, she could feel her face heating up. Embarrassment? No, that was shame.

"What did you do to me just now, are you like Jeannie?"

"No, not exactly. I'm an empath."

"What's that?"

"I can feel and control other people's emotions."

"Oh okay… wait," he cocked his head, listening to something, "more helicopters just arrived."

She narrowed her eyes and concentrated as well. The boss is here, in one of those helicopters. She recognized profound authority, intense pleasure, and pride.

"Who's ever in charge, just got here," she commented, picking up a stray towel that was lying on the ground to wipe her hands and sword off with, "and a huge group of kids just got away, Piotr has them."

"Handy power that ya got there, girl," Logan replied, smiling at her for the first time, "don't worry about blood, it will wash off."

She said nothing at his pathetic attempt to comfort. He cocked his head again and glanced over at the door, Morgan thought he looked alot like a cocker spaniel with his head cocked like that. A very angry one with really big claws. This guy was the cause for all of Scott's teeth gnashing and jealousy issues? Jean is interested in this? Really? Scott shouldn't worry too much. Jean is just having a bad boy crush. Haven't we all?

"Stay here, darlin', where it's safe. I'm going back out," he barked at her, before opening the door. He ran down the hallway, took a flying leap off the banister, growling like a rabid wolverine.

Morgan made a disparaging noise in the back of her throat, "chauvinistic pig,"

"_I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite, so don't let me have any rights_," she sang softly, peeking around the door to see what might have ventured into the hallway. All clear.

"This is me, _not staying in this room_, Logan."

"Zone one clear," the radio crackled. The leader of this mission couldn't help smiling. All was going so very well. Walking down a very futuristic looking hallway that lead to Charles Xavier's Cerebro, he was joined by a tall soldier, in full camouflage gear.

He glanced over at his second in command, knowing what he was going to say. Most of the mutant children had escaped. William Stryker learned a long time ago, to never underestimate Charles Xavier. That crippled old bastard never put all of his eggs in one basket. He would have anticipated an invasion at some point in time, and instructed his wards with an escape plan.

After spending a few hours interrogating Charles Xavier's field leader, Scott Summers, codename: Cyclops, who now was fully under his control, Stryker had gained a healthy respect for Xavier. William Stryker likened Cyclops to some of the best military minds ever, like Rommel, Patton, or MacArthur. He would have enjoyed analyzing Summer's tactical skills, but time was short and he was so close to having his own Cerebro. All mutants will be dead by this time, tomorrow.

"Sergeant?"

"Most of the mutants escaped through a series of tunnels that weren't on any of our schematics," Sergeant Lyman reported as they walked towards Cerebro, "we have several in custody."

"How many?" he asked, hoping for at least ten to twelve.

"Six, sir," he paused, to listen to his radio, "and there is some sort of psy up on the third floor that is eluding us. I am needed upstairs to take him out."

Stryker turned towards his second, and lowered his voice, "I want him alive, Lyman."

"Sir, he has taken out over seven of my men," he explained, hoping that this would act as a deterrent this late in game. He didn't want to risk the lives of his men over somebody that will surely be dead by tomorrow night.

"Even more the reason," he replied, his lips turning up as he heard a computerized voice say: _Welcome, Professor._

"Shit," she cussed softly to herself. Morgan had allowed the soldiers to herd her into a dead end without her even realizing it, "where is Cyclops when you need him?"

She peered around the darkened corner, and pulled her self back from the edge when she saw the number of men that now were wise to her. This floor goes no where; perhaps the time has come to hide. She ran to the far end of the hall and began scouting out spots. Glancing down at her watch, she sighed in despair, Remy won't be here for another thirty minutes. I don't think I can hide for that long, she thought, maybe if overload all of these guys; I can sneak past them undetected.

"_I went to a shrink, to analyze my dreams; she says its lack of sex, that's bringing me down_," she sang quietly, her eyes darting back and forth in the darkness, as she began letting her power build. Unfortunately, she never even got the chance to lower her shields.

She saw the grenade rolling down the hallway just in time to leap behind a heavy cabinet. Even though, the cabinet shielded her from most of the explosion, she still hit her head fairly hard on the wall. Morgan didn't know that she was injured until she reached up and wiped the blood that was running down her face. Fighting back the blackness that was darkening her vision, she struggled to get back to her feet.

"Son of bitch," Sergeant Lyman muttered when he walked up to a very dazed Morgan. He was not expecting a woman. When their eyes met, he began to feel lethargic and scared. He immediately pulled his tranquilizer gun out and shot Morgan in the neck, she fell forward onto the debris, completely out cold. He squatted down, picked her up and walked down the hallway. One of his men, jogged up, eager to get a look at the mutant that had held them all at bay.

"Do you need a hand, Sergeant? Is he heavy?" the soldier asked, before stopping cold in his tracks.

"No, soldier. _She's_ about one hundred and twenty pounds, soaking wet."

AN:

"I'm Just a Girl" No Doubt

"Basket Case" Green Day


	4. The Plan

**Chapter 4: The Plan**

When they brought Morgan in, Scott felt something as he recognized her. It was the first feeling that he had had since Stryker injected that serum into his nervous system. He tried to hold onto it as if it was a tangible object. It was guilt. He wanted it. It was his own. More followed. Anger. Frustration. Calculation. His thoughts were becoming his own. Cyclops was coming back.

Sergeant Lyman carefully placed Morgan on the examination table, and went over to the first aid cabinet. He retrieved a suture set, a stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and a pen light. Lyman was not only the second in command here at Alkali Lake, he was his unit's medic as well. He wasn't sure of Stryker's plans for this one, but he decided that the scalp laceration needed a few stitches. We can't have Stryker's mindless mutants bleeding all over the place, he thought to himself. As he began his examination to determine if she had suffered a concussion, he glanced at her face and then down her body. She's quite attractive, he thought, I'll need to let all of my men know that she was not to be touched. Most of these men wouldn't think of touching a mutant. You never know.

As Lyman stitched up Morgan's head, he glanced over at the mutant standing at the door. It was Xavier's field officer, Cyclops. Even though he was very much under Stryker's control, he did not trust that mutant. It took double the amount of serum to subdue Cyclops and make him compliant, which told Lyman that there was an unknown variable of serum's effectiveness. Was it because of the mutant's brain damage, his actual mutation, his disciplined mind, or Xavier's training? He did not like unknown variables. Like this woman here and the Wolverine. Why were they not listed as some of the possible mutants they might encounter? Just how much information was Cyclops able to withhold under questioning? Variables.

"Sergeant, is she damaged?" William Stryker asked as he walked into the room.

"No sir, I don't think so. Her head wound is superficial, I took the liberty of suturing up this laceration," he answered placing his last stitch.

"Excellent," he replied glancing down at Morgan, "Cyclops! Come here!" Stryker barked, his eyes never leaving Morgan's face. "Who is this?"

Silence. Stryker turned towards Scott and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. The mutant was obviously throwing off the effects of the serum. His jaw was clenched tight and his right hand was shaking as he slowly raised it to his visor. Stryker quickly covered the distance before Scott was able to regain enough control to activate his force beams. He grabbed him roughly by the hair, yanked his head down, and redosed him. The mutant hissed in pain. This was simply amazing. He had to use double the amount to break this young man; he should not be even remotely ready for this third dose. Stryker attributed this feat to how disciplined Scott Summers's mind is. When Scott raised his head, his jaw was relaxed, hands were steady and back down at his sides. Stryker whispered all of his previous instructions to Scott who nodded in understanding. He walked back over to the table, looking rather annoyed.

"Now. Come here. Who is she?"

"Her name is Morgan McGowan, and she is Professor Xavier's personal assistant," Scott answered with a flat affect, looking down at Morgan, with not a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

"My men reported that she is some type of psy, like Jean Grey."

"No sir, Morgan is an empath."

"Of course," Lyman murmured, "that makes much more sense than her being a telepath."

Stryker was silent for a moment, weighing his options. He had never used the serum on a mutant with abilities such as this. Telepaths and empaths were especially challenging to capture, it took a lot of planning, such as what he had to do to bring in Charles Xavier. Therefore, the effects were unknown and that alone appealed to the scientist in him. But time was short for her kind; it almost seemed to be a waste.

"What level of mutant is she?" he asked softly, his mind still weighing his options.

"She is not a mutant," Scott replied. Lyman looked up at Stryker in shock. His body readied itself for a fight, because he now knew that the serum was ineffective in completely controlling Xavier's field leader. He should not be able to lie right after a dosing. William glanced at his second in command, acknowledged his concern, but did not act as if he was worried about an attack from the mutant.

"Are you sure about this? Was her blood tested for the X-factor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Interesting. Where does her power come from then?" he asked, reaching forward to grasp her chin, examining her face. He was trying to remember any details of the testing that was done by the KGB in the 1960's on psychics. He never even considered that there were non-mutants out there, who 'naturally' possessed powers. In fact, Stryker had thought while reading the documents that the Soviets probably had mutants on their hands without realizing it.

"Her genetics. She told us that all of her family possesses these types of powers."

"Did you thoroughly test her?" Scott nodded, "what can she do?"

"Morgan can read, control, and project emotions, we've never encountered anyone with her level of ability," Scott answered.

"If she was a mutant, what level would you put her at?" he asked, a plan finally formulating in his mind. He would be losing Yuriko tomorrow when all mutants will be destroyed by Charles Xavier and it might be prudent to have some sort of ace in his pocket.

"Alpha level," Scott answered after a moment of thought.

"Hmm," Stryker continued to stare down at her, he expelled a deep breath when he came to his decision. "Lyman, if you are finished here, I want you to strap a neural inhibitor on her, take her to room D and put in position for serum administration."

"Sir?" Lyman looked up sharply, his eyes shadowed in confusion. He was not expecting that they were going to dose this girl, she wasn't a mutant.

"Is there a problem, Sergeant?" he barked, his voice softened when he saw his second in command's eyes. He knew that he had to have the battalion's full support to carry out his plans.

"You do know that there are only two options at this time. We either execute her or we dose her, because she'll need to be controlled," Stryker explained calmly.

Sergeant Lyman took a moment to think about this. He was not happy with this turn of events. He wasn't foolish enough to think that they could just throw her in a holding cell; he knew first hand what she was capable of. Five of his team now lay cold in the morgue by her hand alone. If she can be controlled, it gave them a strategic advantage, especially if Xavier was able to resist Mutant 143's direct telepathic control. Wasn't it better that she be under Stryker's control and not dead and underground?

"No, sir there is no problem."

"Good, so be quick, the effect of that tranquilizer will be wearing off very soon."

"No one is left, Jean. Soldiers came." Jean thought she heard a touch of remorse in Logan's voice as he explained what happened at Xavier's Institute over the night. Was it because he thought he failed, or was it something else? Jean and Ororo exchanged concerned glances, the soft praying in the back of plane stopped. The new mutant was listening as well.

"What about the children?" Ororo asked as gruesome images began flashing in her head in rapid succession. Even though she fully believed in Charles Xavier's dream of one day living peacefully among the flat lines, she was not naïve about the dangers out there.

"Some of them escaped. I'm not sure about the rest." Logan replied softly.

"We haven't been able to reach the Professor or Scott either." Jean added her voice betraying her anxiety. Ever since she was a child she could 'hear' Charles in some form and the telepathic link that she recently established with Scott was gone, as well.

"Where are you, Logan?" Ororo asked thinking that they should not go back to the Institute and get themselves captured as well.

"Boston, with Bobby Drake's family." Logan said, looking into the Drake's living room disdainfully, the kid's parents were getting on his last nerve.

"Okay, we're on our way." Ororo reached over and began entering the coordinates that she was able to upload from Logan's com link. They now had his exact position. Jean chuckled to herself imagining Logan in the suburbs of Boston.

"And Storm? Make it fast." Logan said as he closed the connection.

Ororo glanced back and caught the eyes of Kurt Wagner; he shyly smiled at her before continuing his praying. The communication device on the plane console blinked again with another active com link, but this one was searching for the X-Jet's link.

"Hello?" Jean answered carefully, wary that someone out there had a direct link to them now.

"Jeannie, is dat y?" When Jean and Ororo heard the familiar Cajun accent, they both sighed in relief. It was Remy LeBeau.

"Oh thank God, Remy. Where are you?"

"I'm here at de school, Jeannie." He didn't bother to conceal the stress in his voice.

"Are there any of children there?" Ororo asked, she turned and glanced behind her when she heard the leather of the chair creak, it was the mutant, Kurt. He had moved up into the chair behind her. His facial expression was concerned, his eyes flashed in pain.

"Yeah, Stormy. Piotr had a lot of dem hidden out in de forest. Smart boy, dat one is. But dere is about nine missin' and…"

"No, Logan has three of the kids and they are in Boston, we are going to go pick them up now…oh goddess. That means that there are six kids missing…shit…" Ororo hid her face, trying to keep her emotions under control. She needed to think clearly.

"Morgan is missing. Dey got her."

"No… no they didn't, she's at her father's, Remy, call her cell," Jean replied, she was glad that at least that was one less person they had to worry about. Silence.

"Remy?"

"I'm here," his voice was tight and guarded as if he was trying to hold something big in, "non, she called me last night, when de soldiers were attacking de school."

Jean and Ororo glanced at each other. If soldiers had the authority to attack a school, and take children, who knew what they might do to a woman prisoner.

"Maybe she got out, and just hasn't come back yet," Ororo offered, thinking it might be a possibility.

"Non, dere was a big explosion on de third floor, and deres a lot of blood, I found her sword in de debris."

No one said anything for a minute; everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Kurt began to softly pray.

"Okay, this is what we are going to do. We'll go pick up Logan and the kids in Boston, and then come back there and I will use Cerebro to find the Professor, Scott and Morgan. So stay put, Remy. We'll get her back."

"D'accord, Jeannie."


	5. Alone

**Chapter 5: Alone**

Images flashed in her mind. Newspapers blowing down empty streets. Broken glass sparkling in the sunlight on the counter tops in vacant shops. Her heartbeat drummed a steady tattoo in her head, as she searched for some other living soul. She was alone. She felt nothing. Morgan knew this nightmare, she forced herself to awaken.

This one reoccurred for over a year now. It came from the movie, 28 Days Later. She had watched it with Jubilee, Rogue and Kitty down in the Rec Room one night. The girls were scared by the zombies, Morgan was not. Something else had frightened her. Morgan did not sleep well for several nights after seeing the movie. She couldn't imagine anything more terrifying than waking up to a world devoid of people. The images of a bustle metropolis such as London turned into a ghost town shook her to the core. She spent a great deal of time, analyzing why those particular scenes frightened her so much. Morgan determined that, as an empath, she needed a constant stream of emotions flowing through her. It was like her need for oxygen.

She felt nothing. There was nobody left on the earth. She felt nothing. Morgan forced her eyes to open, to truly awaken herself from the nightmare. Her eyes met grey concrete. She still felt nothing, but now she knew that this was not a dream.

Morgan's quickly realized that her wrists were cuffed behind her and secured over her head. Her shoulders ached because they were supporting most of her weight, and had for a long time. She shifted most of her weight to her legs and that alleviated some of the pain. There was something heavy and cold strapped to her head. Morgan felt nothing flowing through her. No one's emotions, no emotional climate at all. She tried to reach out empathically, a searing pain shot through her brain, she cried out. She tried shaking her head in an attempt to jar the contraption loose. It didn't budge. Whatever this thing was, it was preventing her from using her empathy.

Somebody knew.

The position that her body was in, made her feel intensely vulnerable. Even though she could recognize the psychology, her understanding didn't prevent her from reacting emotionally. Morgan's breathing became shallow as she began to panic. Her heart was pounding in her ears, so she tried concentrating on slowing her breathing down; it would do no good if she passed out. Morgan struggled to calm herself.

"Hello?" she whispered. Her voice was raspy from nonuse. How long had she been here? No one answered. She could hear some muffled voices from some other room. Even though her situation was grave, it was comforting to know that she wasn't totally alone. Morgan forced herself to take a few deep breaths over several minutes to try to calm down. She attempted to use her empathy again, she cried out from the pain.

"That is called a neural inhibitor. I wasn't sure that it would actually work on an empath."

For the first time in her life, somebody startled her. She turned her head toward the voice.

It was a tall man dressed in a military uniform. She gasped as memories came back to her in a flood. She remembered her last moments of consciousness- the school invasion, her killing of the soldiers, the children. Morgan focused on the man in the room and tried to hit him as hard as she could with everything that she had. The pain took her breath away and her knees gave out from under her.

"I'd advise you not to use your powers, Ms. McGowan. The pain will only increase each time you try," he said calmly as walked towards her, "I apologize about the discomfort of the position, you won't be in it for too much longer."

He gently gathered her hair up in a hand, she tried to pull away from his touch, but his grip was firm. He pulled it into a high ponytail, exposing her neck. The cool air felt oppressive on her newly uncovered skin. It was such an odd thing to do, to pull her hair back and up, many thoughts crossed her mind as to the reason why. None of them were good. Staring down at his highly polished boots, Morgan swallowed hard and decided to see if she could get any information from this soldier. He already knew about her empathy and her name.

"Where am I?" she asked quietly.

"You are at a military base called Alkali Lake, Ms. McGowan," he replied, walking over to a cabinet. It creaked loudly when he opened it.

"Why am I here?"

"You attacked and killed seven of my men last night," he answered coolly, evading her question.

"You invaded my home… you kidnapped our students… I had to protect them," she replied softly, wishing that the tone of her voice could convey strength. She just sounded scared.

"Touché."

Morgan jumped when his radio loudly squawked, she learned that his name was Sergeant Lyman, and he was needed elsewhere. She breathed a sigh of relief, with that soldier gone; it gave her some time to think.

"No Jones, just leave her alone."

Morgan jumped again; she hadn't realized that there were guards standing at the other side of the room. She was discovering that she used her empathy more than she thought she did. It was another sense for her. Morgan kept her eyes down as the soldier approached her. She didn't need her power to know that his intensions could not be good. She could see his shiny black boots and camouflage fatigues, in her peripheral vision as her circled her.

"Jones," the other soldier whispered, "Lyman will have your balls if you touch her," he warned.

"Fucking mutie," Jones muttered under his breath, ignoring the other one. When he reached out and touched her hip, she took a shaky breath in and jerked away. He chuckled. It was a cruel sound. He continued to circle her. This can't be happening; Morgan thought to herself, _this is not happening_.

While standing behind her, he grabbed her by her hips and pulled her flush with his body. He then reached forward and grabbed her by the hair; she forced herself to not cry out by clenching her jaw and keeping her lips closed.

"You killed Williamson, I saw you do it. You made him not give a shit about anything before you stuck him like a pig," he whispered, as he rubbed himself into her. Morgan was absolutely defenseless. She now found herself in a position that in the past, and considering her given her abilities, she was never afraid of. She could walk down a dark alley late at night; she could even go on date with a serial rapist and have no fear of anything bad happening. In the past, she always had the upper hand.

Fear.

It ripped through her psyche.

"Jones! Step away from the prisoner!" Lyman barked, running into the room, hoping that it wasn't too late. He had felt her projected fear from three doors down, he had assumed that the inhibitor had dislodged or malfunctioned.

"You are relieved of duty, return to the barracks! Travis, go let Smith know what just happened here and then wait outside!" He ordered; as he crouched down to examine the inhibitor. It was functioning perfectly.

"Yes sir."

He stood up and glanced at the clock, and decided that Stryker needed to get here as soon as possible. They needed to get this one under control before something else happens. She might even figure out that she is strong enough to overload the inhibitor.

"I apologize for his behavior," he spoke in a low voice, "I certainly do not condone it and would never allow anything like that to happen under my command."

"Is there a problem Sergeant?" Stryker asked, walking quickly into the small room. He was flanked my Yuriko and Cyclops. He decided to not mention the feeling of fear that had just ripped through the compound. He didn't want the prisoner to know what she was still capable of.

"One of my soldiers, over stepped a boundary, I relieved him of his duty," Lyman replied, his eyes darting down to Morgan who was still visibly trembling. "She is ready for serum administration," he added.

Morgan could not stop shaking. It was the combination of being sexually assaulted, having these men talk about something that they were going to do her, the physical position that she was in, the absence of her empathy, and now seeing that Scott was under their control.

The older man said nothing as he approached Morgan; she turned her head slightly to the side and saw that he was holding a large syringe in his hand. The room was silent except the sound of her erratic breathing. When he grabbed roughly by her hair, her knees gave away. She felt a warm liquid on the back of her neck and then she only knew pain.


	6. Changes

**Chapter 6: Changes**

Jean paused to crack her neck, stretch her back, and survey her work. Fix the jet. Get it back into the air. She knew that she could fix it, it would take several hours but she could do it. Jean had logged countless hours in the hangar with Scott performing maintenance on the jet. She knew what had to be done. Scott could do it faster, but she knew everything that she needed to know about the jet.

Jean wasn't intimately involved with this jet like Scott was. She refused to call it 'Madelyne', the name Scott's picked for it, except once.

"I think you are cheating on me, Mister Summers. Does the name Madelyne, sound familiar?"

He smiled patiently at her complaint. He then softly took Jean by the hand, led her into the hangar, brought her onboard his…um…mistress, and placed her in the pilot's chair. He knelt in front of her, pushed her skirt to her hips, and tore her panties off. Scott then proceeded he gave her the most mind blowing oral sex that she had ever experienced. Tapping her fingers on the console, she found herself smiling at that memory. He always referred to that day as when they 'christened' Madelyne.

It didn't happen often, but sometimes Scott could truly surprise her. Once Jean started to think about Scott, her stomach clenched up, her thoughts became clouded with worry for Scott, Charles and Morgan.

"Where are you?" she whispered to herself.

She needed some fresh air, her mind kept snapping back into worry mode. She couldn't work like this, she might make mistakes.

Jean took a deep breath as she walked down the jet's gangplank and then down the stairs wiping her hands on a greasy rag. She immediately noticed Logan; he was staring off into space, deep in thought and smoking a cigar. He audibly sighed when he heard her footsteps.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, quickly glancing back at her. He took another puff on his cigar. Jean tried not to wrinkle her nose up. She hated that smell.

"You okay?" Jean asked.

"Yeah."

"You sure?" Jean asked.

He turned towards her, his eyes catching hers.

"How we doing?"

Ah, he wants to get out of here, and back to Alkali Lake, she thought, he is looking for his answers. Magneto gave him more to think about than Charles ever did. Jean glanced back up into the jet.

"Not good," she replied, stepping down off of the stairs, "it'll take four or five hours before I can get it off the ground."

Logan stepped closer to her. She caught several thoughts, images that he was strongly projecting. He was thinking about her, thinking about her physically. Jean cringed away from those particular images. She would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn't thought about him in that way, as well. It was hard not to, Logan possessed a certain appeal for her. It was all purely sexual. These urges and fantasies of hers, which were perfectly acceptable and harmless, a few days ago, seemed out of place now. Jean never would have acted upon them, she was just enjoying the attention.

But now, her fiancé and Charles are missing. They were stranded here with Erik and Mystique, and she had to quickly finish these repairs. Everything had changed. There was no time for this harmless flirting, anymore.

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm just worried about Scott," she said flatly, hoping that he'd understand that this was not the time for this.

"I'm worried about you," Jean looked up at him, his tone of voice conveyed concern. Her eyes flickered warily, not liking that he'd stepped closer to her, closing the distance.

"That was some display of power up there."

"Obviously it was not enough."

"Hey, hey. Come on. All right?" Logan grasped her shoulder before moving his hand up to the side of her neck and then back down to her shoulder. Jean knew now that she had to nip this in the bud right now and let Logan know that whatever 'this' was, it wasn't going to happen.

"I love him." She said emphatically

"Do you?" Jean instantly regretted every time that she had flirted with him. She now could see that, it meant more to him, than she ever intended.

"Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan…" she looked up at him, hoping to see that he understood what she was saying. He didn't. So she continued, "They don't take him home. They marry the good guy."

_Scott_.

Logan sighed, his mind trying to come up with anything to keep this conversation going.

"I could be the good guy," he replied, smiling slightly.

"Logan, the good guy…" Jean stopped in midsentence when she felt the communicator in her pocket vibrate. She reached down, pulled it out, and flipped it open. Logan's eyes were staring hard at her mouth when she glanced back up at him, she knew now that he intended to kiss her. Saved by the bell, she thought to herself.

"Hello? Oh…Remy. No, no we all are okay. What? No, let me tell you what happened," Jean says, speaking into the phone, walking back up the stairs. Logan shoved his cigar back into his mouth and stormed away, silently cursing whoever this 'Remy' person was.

"I understand how hard it is for you to stay there, with Morgan missing, but I am concerned about the safety of the children. I…"

"Jeannie, I understand what y' sayin', but I want y' to know that de children will have protection," Remy explained as he finished typing out an email to a 24-hour security firm that he has had dealings with in the past. He requested twenty armed guards to be at Xavier's Institute within an hour, he wrote explicit instructions about what he wanted. They were very good at what they do. Remy had no reservations about entrusting the children's lives in their exceptionally capable hands.

"What happens if those soldiers come back?" Jeannie asked, her voice rising in annoyance. She didn't want to deal with this bullshit right now; she was just as worried as he was, and she had work to do.

"It's taken care of," he stated matter-of-factly, trying not to allow too much anger to seep into his voice. Jean did not understand just what she was up against, but she was acting as if she did. That pissed him off to no end. Jean had lived a lot of her life through the thoughts of others. There were times that Remy felt she was naïve to how things really worked.

"Look, as much as I hate to say it, Jeannie. Magneto is right. Colonel Stryker means business. He will try to kill us all." Remy explained, walking down the hallway to take the elevator down to the subbasement. He was heading towards the Weapons Room.

"You know him, don't you?" Jean asked, hoping that this wasn't the man who held Remy hostage for two years, several years ago. Sometimes Remy would have nightmares about that time of his life and he would project horrible images. Jean saw things that made her skin crawl.

"Oui, I know him," Remy replied softly. Fucking Stryker, should have blown that asshole sky high when I had the chance, he thought bitterly. There was no way in hell he was going to stay here and babysit these kids, if Colonel William Stryker had his hands on Morgan. He took a deep breath, and forced several volatile emotions back down and continued.

"Jeannie, I know that this is hard to imagine, but what if Stryker now controls Cyclops, de Professor, and Morgan. Y' said y'rself that he forced that teleporter to attack the president. That right there is another reason for me to come and help. You'll need help."

Remy punched his number in and stood still as the security device scanned his retina, the light on the panel flashed green.

_Remy LeBeau. Code name: Gambit. Access granted._

He rolled his eyes at the feminine voice of the computer, who came up with that little gem, was anyone's guess. Probably Cyclops.

Stepping into the Weapons Room, Remy grabbed a large duffel bag from a shelf and began shoving several high caliber weapons into it.

Silence on the line.

"Jeannie, y' still there?"

"Yeah."

"Well?"

"I hadn't thought about that," she replied softly, finally thinking about what they must have done to Kurt to turn him into a mindless assassin. He really was the gentlest person that Jean had ever met. She now understood what they might be coming up against. If they were under Stryker's control, Morgan could easily incapacitate them, render them unwilling to fight and Scott could then blast them away as Charles destroys every living mutant on earth through Cerebro.

"It is a strong possibility," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Okay, Remy see who you can get, and get here as soon as possible," she said, making the decision that usually was Scott's to make.

"Be careful, Jean."

"I will."

Remy shifted the heavy bag on his shoulder as he clicked his phone off. The door of the elevator slid open and Remy found himself staring eye to eye with Warren Worthington, and Hank McCoy.

Sergeant Timothy Lyman was the only medic at Alkali Lake; Stryker insisted that he be present for initial serum administration. At times, he just observed, and then later noted in his personal records, a successful procedure. Other times, Lyman was there to initiate CPR, and sometimes he had to note the time when the subject died. The serum was toxic to some subjects.

His opinion and his emotional response to this procedure fluctuated on the actual subject. It really depended on the mutant's disposition before administration. The feral ones were easier to watch, it was more like putting a rapid animal down. A humane thing to do. They howled in pain, but they howled anyways, so there was not much difference. The intelligent ones, the kind ones, the meek ones, these were harder to stomach.

Lyman thought, given his demonic appearance, the teleporting mutant, would thrash around and snap at them with his sharp fangs like an animal. He didn't. He prayed to God to forgive them all and he made very little sound during the pain. Afterwards Lyman went back to his bunk and read from his Bible, hoping to find words of comfort, hoping to find the words that would assure him that what they were doing was right. He found none. Stryker wasn't affected in the slightest by that subject's docility. In fact, he taunted the mutant's faith, and explained that he was an abomination in God's eyes, before burning his control away. He tortured the mutant, Kurt Wagner, pure and simple, in Lyman's opinion.

Scott Summers, Xavier's field leader, was quiet and calculating. Even when he was vulnerable in the bound up state, his voice and body language never betrayed any emotions or weaknesses. He was stoic. Lyman respected him for that, even if he was a mutant. He was not quiet during the serum administration, however. His screams were loudest of any of the other subjects. Stryker deduced that the brain damage that prevented Summers from fully controlling his optical force blasts might have blocked some of the serum from inundating his brain. There was some property about the serum that searched out alternate paths to obtain full brain saturation. These paths, apparently, were more painful than others.

Up until this day, all of their subjects were mutants, and that, most of all, made it easier for Lyman. He didn't feel they were an abomination or have an intense hatred for them like some of his men harbored. They were dangerous, and definitely a threat to his country, and therefore they needed to be controlled.

She was different. She wasn't a mutant. She attacked because she was protecting the lives of children. She was born with powers that Lyman didn't even know existed in this world except those with the X-factor. Stryker only wanted her because he needed strength by his side; he was used to having the advantage. Yuriko would be dead by tomorrow.

Timothy Lyman clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together to keep silent as Stryker approached Morgan. He wanted to stop this; it didn't feel right to him. Stryker grabbed her roughly by her hair and yanked to elongate her neck, which they knew facilitated better serum saturation into the central nervous system. He watched as her knees buckled, and he heard the sizzle of the serum hitting her flesh and then Sergeant Timothy Lyman only knew pain.

Morgan knew her family history. She knew that many of her ancestors were burned at the stake accused of witchcraft. Gifts such as theirs were thought to be gifts given out by demons, for their loyal servitude.

Morbidly, Morgan had often wondered what that must have felt like, to be burned alive.

She now knew.


	7. Pain & Power

**Chapter 7: Pain & Power**

Steven loved camping. He loved waking up early in the morning, finding a bush to piss on, stoking his campfire to life, and putting the kettle on for coffee. He has camped just about everywhere: national parks, foreign countries, the beach, the desert, the forest, and of course the run of the mill generic campsite. He considered himself a purist when it came to camping: a sleeping bag on the bare ground in summer and a tent in the winter.

Steven met Shelly at a REI store in Pittsburg. They bonded over the need to purchase water purification tablets. They exchanged phones numbers, went camping, met for dinner, went camping, fell in love, married, and went camping. She loved being outdoors as much as he did.

Shelly's favorite activity while camping was to spend time outside in the freezing air until she could hardly stand it anymore. They then would practice their survival 101 skills. One of the most basic survival techniques when exposed to the elements is preventing hypothermia. The best way is to warm another person up is by removing all clothing, and using your own body heat to raise their temperature. Having a naked Shelly in his sleeping bag always raised more than his temperature. The freezing cold equaled hot sex in his book.

Along the shores of Alkali Lake, was where they set up their campsite. It was an idyllic setting, untarnished by consumerism. Peaceful and quiet and it was a relatively unknown area to most campers. Steven thought he'd heard helicopters the night before, but decided he was just having a bad dream. His subconscious mind was sending him messages that he was dreading returning to civilization and the daily grind.

Overnight, about a foot and half of fresh powdery snow had fallen to the ground. Steven could smell the scent of snow in the air, and it made him horny as all hell.

Shelly was already up, stoking the fire to life and putting the kettle on for coffee. When she unzipped the tent, Steven opened his eyes. She was wearing her camp slippers and nothing else. He smiled slowly and beckoned her over, when she got close enough; he grabbed her icy hand and pulled her back into their sleeping bag.

They kissed for several minutes, until he knew that Shelly was ready and then he thrust into her. It didn't take them long to find a rhythm that was mutually satisfying. They both were on the edge of orgasm, when the pain struck.

_Pain_.

It was if somebody had shot electricity through their nerves, injected hydrochloric acid into their veins, and set their bodies ablaze.

It seared. It burned. They screamed.

The first thing that Lyman noticed when he regained consciousness was the blood on the concrete. It was pooling directly under the empath's face. He hoped she'd either bit her lip or got a nose bleed and not had some type of a brain hemorrhage.

He rose shakily to his feet, his hand gripping a chair back tightly as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Stryker was sitting up but he had his head in between knees and was breathing slowly. Both Cyclops and Yuriko were on the floor as well, conscious, albeit visibly shaken. Lyman wondered how the rest of base had fared.

Lyman knelt down and slipped a hand under Morgan's forehead and tipped her head up to feel for a pulse. Her heart was beating at a regular rhythm and her breathing was normal. The hand that touched her forehead was now covered in blood. He turned her face towards his, and sighed in relief. It looked to be a nosebleed, which sometimes can happen when a subject reacts violently. Morgan's eyes locked on his, they were narrowed and her irises were silver.

Successful administration.

"Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"Her eyes turned, can I release the bonds?"

"Go ahead." Stryker replied quietly, climbing to his feet. He smiled as he slowly walked over to Morgan, noticed the blood and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. As Lyman lowered the restraints, her arms fell to her lower back and she pitched forward. Stryker caught her and gently placed her on the floor. He began wiping the blood from her face; her eyes had focused on his.

He couldn't be more pleased. She overloaded the inhibitor, projected intensely, and knocked them all on their asses in the process. Who knows how formidable she could be, given that she now lacked the ability to police her own actions? This woman has the potential to become more powerful than she ever could have dreamed to be. Stryker knew that many of his subjects' own morality, rules of conduct, and self doubt often dampened their full capabilities. That was not an issue now.

"Ms. McGowan, I am Colonel William Stryker…" he began, as he unstrapped the now useless neural inhibitor from her head.

Timothy Lyman turned away from them and tuned Stryker's little spiel out. He had heard it so many times that he could recite it in his sleep. Under the influence of the serum the subject becomes completely susceptible to the power of suggestion, and will obey _any_ command if given by the one who originally initiated control. They also will be mostly compliant to commands given from others, although some balked if Stryker wasn't around.

It didn't take much to lay groundwork for full control. However, it was an ongoing process, requiring frequent reinforcement. Yuriko Oyama has been under for over five years, and Stryker still needed to repeat his initial speech every time he administered more serum. Tedious but effective.

After establishing his control over Morgan, Stryker questioned her extensively about her background. He discovered that she is an only child with a very large extended family. There were several other members of her family that possess gifts such as hers. Stryker was not pleased to hear that she would be indeed missed, and that not only would her family search for her; some of them were psychic and skilled at 'remote viewing'. He assumed that that meant they would be able to 'see' her, wherever she was. Obviously, that is something Stryker will need to deal with fairly soon.

Lyman continued to observe Morgan's demeanor, body language, and any out of the ordinary facial expressions during Stryker's questioning. They discovered that if a subject is not fully under they could easily become a dangerous liability.

There was something about the way her eyes narrowed at Stryker when she divulged very private information about herself that Lyman didn't care for. However, he decided that he would just continue to observe. He didn't want to go through another serum administration, and his reason was a purely selfish one. That experience was unbelievably painful.

"I don't have much time, Ms. McGowan, but I would like a demonstration of your abilities," Stryker said, before taking a sip of his coffee, he paused to think of what would be the best way, "Tell me a little about everyone on the base."

Morgan eyes narrowed at him; inwardly she was seething in anger. It consumed her. She wanted to lash out. To strike. To kill. If she could, she would happily wrap her fingers around this bastard's neck and squeeze until his eyes bulged out and begged hers for mercy. She wanted to bash his face in, tear his tongue out and then rip his head off. Watch him die a slow torturous death.

She could do none of these things. It was if this part of her was paralyzed and lame, unable to anything. The other part of her was like an enthusiastic puppy, eager to please, wagging her tail for approval, willing to do anything that would reward her with a pat on the head.

Unfortunately, this sycophant puppy part had complete control of her body. She could do nothing but observe and seethe.

Morgan's pupils dilated as she empathically reached out. She completed her task in a few scant moments. Her eyes locked back onto Stryker's.

"I'm ready," she replied her with a flat affect. Lyman looked up from the report he was reading.

"She's quick," Lyman murmured.

"Go ahead," Stryker replied as his mouth turned up in a satisfied grin. William Stryker was so pleased that this one wasn't killed at Xavier's. Even though he thought that she was nothing but a tool to be used at his own discretion, he didn't harbor any hatred for her, like his other mutant's that he controlled. She was gifted, pure and simple, and this came naturally for her and not from the filthy mutation that has thoroughly corrupted the human gene pool.

"There are thirty four people in the immediate area. You are holding six of the children from the school. Jubilee, Artie, Nolan, Devin, Jermaine, and Sideah. Five of the six children are anxious…confused… frightened. Jubilee is angry as well."

"This is Scott Summers," she pointed at Scott, "I know him _very_ well. At the moment, he is angry…" she spoke through clenched teeth, experiencing his anger, "murderously angry but…" Morgan eyes narrowed as she delved deeper into Scott. She then raised her hand and lowered it in front of her face downwardly, and whispered, "He is subdued, compliant, and eager to please."

Scott mouth twitched slightly and then smoothed out again. Morgan turned towards Yuriko who was watching her with calculating silver eyes.

"I do not know this woman here. I have never scanned her before," gesturing to Yuriko; she flinched back from Yuriko's glare, but did not break eye contact with her, "she is resigned, subdued like Scott, but the anger bubbles below."

"There are two people, a man and a woman that are not very close by. They are scared and the man is frustrated," she paused again, her mouth turned up in a wry grin, "…well actually… he is quite sexually frustrated…but that…ohhh…they have resumed…this won't take long…" Her breathing quickened as she bit down on her lower lip.

"Okay, I understand, disengage from them…" Stryker interrupted, his face glowing crimson which Lyman could not help chuckling at. "How far away are they? What is your range?"

"I don't know." Morgan answered, her eyes darting to the left of Stryker, focusing on the empty space. She took a startled breath in.

"Maybe campers?" Lyman suggested, "That would be about five miles away." Stryker smiled, very pleased with her range. He then reached forward and forcefully grabbed Morgan's chin.

"Keep your eyes on me, and focus," he barked. She'll need to work on her concentration, he thought to himself.

"Charles Xavier is here, he is…he is…" Morgan shook her head, as if she was trying to clear a thought, "confused but happy. Something is wrong…I can't get a definite reading…it is as if…" her breath quickened, "as if he is not here…he knows that he should be frightened…"

"Never mind about Charles Xavier. _Do not attempt to connect with him at all!_" Stryker ordered, hoping that her empathic touch did not interrupt Jason's projection onto Xavier.

"Okay…um…there is man here connected to Charles Xavier, his emotions are…" she closed her eyes as if she was in pain, "it is all wrong and not his own…wrong. He is cut." She slashed her hand across her face.

"Break off from him!" Stryker yelled. Morgan recoiled back, reacting to his anger. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. So many emotions were bombarding her all at once. She hadn't experienced anything like this since she was a teenager and her empathy careened out of control. At this point in her life, she would never allow herself be this open, empathically or clairvoyantly.

Morgan's eyes opened and momentarily focused again on something beyond Stryker, she spoke in short, clipped tones without making any eye contact with anything.

"This man here," she gestured at Lyman, "he Sergeant Lyman and he is very… very focused but quite anxious, and is carrying a great deal of guilt and sadness…." Morgan visibly shuddered and took a step back. Her hands flew up to her face, fingers splayed out, in a protective gesture.

"This one…" her eyes darting to the empty space next to Stryker, "he is so fucking angry, so much rage, I can almost taste it! He wants to come through, and he will. It won't take long. He knows what I can do. He knows what I am capable of!" She shouted, as she took several steps back until her back hit the wall.

"What the fuck? What have you done here?" She screamed; her eyes hardening with accusation and admonishment at Stryker before they swept around the room wildly.

"There are so many of them! You murdered them all. Tortured them! They died in pain, they suffered! What kind of fucking monster are you?" She whispered as she slid to the floor, she drew her knees up to her chest and covered her face.

Lyman squatted down next to her asked, "What does he look like?" She has more than one gift; he thought to himself, she is obviously sensing more than just emotions here.

Morgan slowly looked up, her eyes were red rimmed, and tears had streaked down leaving tracks on her cheeks. She focused intently on his face, not wanting to see what now filled the room. She swallowed a few times more before answering.

"He has bluish-greenish skin, fish like, you know? He has large black eyes…and gills. His fingers are webbed together. He is powerful…his mind…telepathic…or _he was_. He can come through now that I am here," she whispered, her hands shook with fear.

"What is this power of yours called?" Stryker asked quietly, glancing around the room. Seeing nothing, but not doubting for a moment of what was in this room. The woman just accurately described a mutant that had been a subject of his for many years, until his 'unfortunate' death a few months back.

"Clairvoyance."

"You can communicate with the dead," he stated in a matter of fact voice.

"Yes."

"Do you have complete control of this power of yours?"

"Yes."

"Can you drive them away?"

"Yes."

"Do so."

Morgan quickly stood up, swiping at the tears streaks with the back of her hand. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. The room's temperature dropped several degrees. Stryker shuddered as chills ran up and down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck was stood up on end. Morgan expelled a deep breath of air when she glanced up and locked eyes with Stryker. She looked visibly relieved.

"They are all gone?" he asked.

"All but one, but I can't send him away." Morgan replied softly, her eyes focused intently on the wall behind them. She recognized him but was unable to place where. There was something that about his face, something so familiar and comforting that compelled her not to use the full extent of her power to drive him away. It physically hurt her, to not obey Stryker's direct command, but there was something stronger at work here, something she couldn't understand yet.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I think that he is too strong for me." The lie came easily to her. There was a fleeting sense of accomplishment as it left her mouth, the apparition smiled and nodded at her. Her heart pounded in her chest, when he smiled.

"Can he come through? Will he harm you?" Lyman asked, staring at the wall, wishing to catch something in the empty space that she was staring so intensely at. The man smiled again, shook his head, and brought an index finger to his lips and mouthed a 'sh'.

"He is shaking his head 'no'; I think he is just curious."

"Was he mutant?" Lyman asked.

The man shook his head.

"No."

"Don't worry about him, then. Can you keep the rest of them all away?" Stryker asked.

"Yes."

"Good, do so and continue with your demonstration," he ordered. Her eyes moved back to Stryker's and she smiled at him. He wasn't sure that he liked the look of her smile.

"You are very assured and confident, righteous and arrogant. But you're also scared and unsure now…and now you are angry…and…"

"Alright, alright that's enough! I don't need a running commentary of what I am feeling," he sneered at her.

"Did Charles Xavier teach you how to build mental shields?"

She nodded.

"Close your shields and do not lower them again, unless I tell you to," Stryker ordered, thinking that after tomorrow, he will have ample time to thoroughly test this empath. She was too much of a loose cannon right now, and after so many years of planning, Stryker needed to be judicious with any variables at this point in the game.

"Lyman, take her down to the mess hall with Cyclops and get them fed."

Morgan glanced over again at the apparition. He was now standing in a very relaxed pose against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, the skin around his eyes crinkled in with happiness as he smiled at her once again. As she followed Lyman out, Morgan heard the man say, "Good."


	8. Visitors

**Chapter 8: Visitors**

"Eat."

She said nothing as she started to spoon oatmeal into her mouth. He sighed, picked up his own spoon and began to eat as well. A minute passed before he put his spoon down and began to tap his finger on the tabletop in irritation. He glanced at the top of her head and found himself frowning.

He told to her eat and she was eating. He should be pleased, she followed his orders without hesitation, and Stryker wasn't the one giving the order. Why should her blindly following his order disturb him? Why is this bothering him? He knew that he felt guilt for what he just took part in. This was not the same woman who selflessly took on a division of soldiers to protect children, this was simply a useful empty shell of that person that Stryker will use until he has no further use and will dispose of accordingly. But his had to be done, he reasoned, Stryker would have killed her, and he wouldn't have hesitated for a moment.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as he glanced at the inhabitants of the table. Scott Summers, Yuriko Oyama, and Morgan McGowan. Three people whose willpower had been crushed down and now were merely pawns in Stryker's plan to rid the world of mutants. These people had lives of their own, he thought to himself. He sighed unhappily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced up and caught her staring at him, her forehead creased and her eyebrows rose in question; it was almost as if she could read his emotional state.

"Are your shields down?" he quietly asked. "Did you just feel something through your shields?"

"No and no." She answered flatly with a slight shake of her head, and went on eating her oatmeal.

"Why the look of concern then?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

She swallowed her mouthful, and wiped her mouth with her napkin, "Interpretation of body language," she answered in a matter of fact voice.

"Ah," he paused to think, wanting to keep the conversation going, chatter seemed keep the feelings of guilt at bay, "your father is a psychiatrist, right?"

"Yes," she answered, putting her spoon down and folding her hands in front of her as if she knew that he wasn't going to shut up. Her left eyebrow rose in question. He smiled at her, there was still quite a bit of personality surfacing there, he thought, I probably shouldn't be encouraging any sense of self, but…

"You read people well," he stated, "even without using your empathy. A skill you learned from your father?"

"No, from school," she replied, her head tilted to the side as she studied him further.

"Where did you go to college?" he asked as Yuriko cleared her throat, he glanced over at her but chose to ignore the look of confusion on her face. Yuriko got up, grabbed Cyclops by the arm and pulled him up, and she walked him away. Lyman thought that it was an odd thing to do, but after being under Stryker's will for five years, he didn't doubt that she sometimes suffered from some type of ill effects from the serum.

"Goldsmiths," she answered, her eyes darting over to the now empty chair where Yuriko had been sitting, her breath caught in her throat.

"I've never heard of it, where is it?" Lyman sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, thinking that she must have gone to some community college somewhere.

"It is one of the colleges of the University of London," Morgan offered, her right eyebrow raised, as if she knew what he was thinking.

"Hmm…what did you major in?" he asked, now leaning forward in interest.

"Psychology… anomalistic psychology" she answered softly, her eyes darting back and forth between Lyman and the vacant chair. Lyman sat and thought about that for a moment. Anomalistic? He had never heard of it, but he decided that it probably had to do with a branch of psychology that dealt in the unexplainable. His thoughts were interrupted when his radio squawked loudly, and he reached over and picked it up.

"Lyman here."

"Come up to the control room, Sergeant," Stryker ordered. Lyman sighed, took a sip of coffee before pushing his chair back noisily and getting up.

"When you are finished with your food, come up to the control room."

Morgan nodded, picked up her spoon and began to eat again, staring intently at the vacant chair in front of her, ignoring the stares of the soldiers occupying the other tables. Her mind grappled with what she was seeing, as her psyche finally allowing itself to recognize him. Part of her wanted to reach over and slap his beautiful face, and another part wanted to find out if a kiss from the dearly departed was possible. Slowly, she began absently rubbing the middle of her chest with her hand, as if she could massage the pain away. Her face contorted as her eyesight began to blur with tears. She felt something icy grip her hand and began to rub small circles into the flesh. She bit down on her lower lip as the tears overwhelmed her eyes and fell down her face.

"Why?" she whispered softly, "why now?"

"Please don't cry, Morgan, you know I always had a tough time with your tears," he replied with a small smile.

"You left me," she replied bitterly, her hands clenched into fists. He continued to rub her hand until it unclenched and he was able to slide his fingers through hers.

"No, Pari, I didn't," he looked around and noticed that soldiers were taking notice that it appeared that Morgan not only was talking to herself but was suffering from some type of emotional break down. He didn't want Stryker to have any doubts about his control over Morgan; she wouldn't be able to break through his hold if he dosed her again.

He smiled beatifically at her, as his hand reached across the table and his fingertips ghosted a caress over her lips, his eyes betraying his sadness, "I stayed to keep an eye on you, because I knew this moment would come."

She let out a deep breath and reached up and wiped the tears from her face. He reached over and touched a drop of wetness that remained.

"I wish we had more time to really explain what really happened but we don't. So listen carefully. Very soon, something is going to happen that will really _piss you off._ You will feel the most anger that you have ever felt in your entire life. You need to hold on to it, don't allow any of it to penetrate your shields and leak out of you. It needs to ricochet in your skull, within your shields, love."

"But…" she started and he vanished. She rose slowly to her feet, as Lyman's order to return to the control room became her only thought. Deep down, Morgan resented the compulsion to follow this order. She grabbed a napkin from the table and shoved it in a pocket, so that she could blow her nose and wipe her face in a corridor without the curious eyes of Stryker's soldiers.

As she walked back to the control room, the conversation replayed over and over again in the back of her mind. She dried her eyes, squared her shoulders, and held her head high. Morgan could feel some of the binds that had been crippling her psyche begin to thin out.

"Jonathon," she whispered reverently like a prayer as she stepped through the door and back into the sick world of William Stryker.

As he looked around the room, Magneto assessed each individual.

The Wolverine was an easy one, all brawn and absolutely no brains, which he seem to feel the need to demonstrate time and time again.

Jean was someone who never will live up to her potential; she fears her powers too much. He caught her eye, as he thought this, she smirked at him.

Storm has great potential but she lacked the fortitude to really put everything on the line. She wanted peace, and that was all.

The German teleporter was an obvious pacifist.

Erik already knew that he wanted the fire starter, Pyro was angry young man, and that anger could be quite beneficial to the Brotherhood.

He didn't know what to think about Iceman, but from what he had seen over these last few hours; Eric is very much reminded of a very young and idealistic Charles Xavier. This boy had no place in Magneto's organization.

Rogue, she could be the deadliest weapon ever but her fear equaled another Jean Grey. Crippled with fear.

Erik Lensherr was damn happy that he had Mystique with him.

"All right, this is a topographic map of the dam," Ororo explained her hand gesturing to the holographic image, "this is the spillway. You see these density changes in the terrain?

They're tire tracks."

"That's the entrance," Logan added. Erik's mouth set in a thin line of annoyance. He couldn't believe that the fate of all mutant kind rests on these idiots. Jean caught Erik's eyes and her mouth turned up and she chuckled quietly. He glared at her.

_Stay out of my head, Jean._

_Then stop projecting so loud, Erik. _

"Mm-hmm," Ororo nodded, "And this shows the depth of the ice that's covering the ground. Now this is recent water activity." Simulated blue water rushed down the spillway.

"If we go in there, Stryker could flood the spillway," Jean remarked from across the room. Jean and Ororo looked at each other and then over at Kurt, as if they had the same thought.

"Can you teleport inside?" Ororo asked. Kurt already knew that she was going to ask him this.

"No. I have to be able to see where I'm going," he shook his head gravely, "otherwise I could wind up inside a wall," he explained, hoping that they understood how there was nothing that could be done for him if this happens. He hoped they would not ask this of him.

"I'll go. I have a hunch he'll want me alive." Everybody turned and looked at Logan; Erik rolled his eyes before he interrupted the conversation.

"Wolverine, whoever goes into the dam…needs to be able to operate the spillway mechanism," he said as walked through the hologram, he ignored the glare from Storm, "What do you intend to do? _Scratch it with your claws_?"

Logan puffed his chest out and quickly approached Erik, "I'll take my chances."

"But I won't," he replied turning back to where Mystique was standing. Jean instantly saw what Eric was thinking, Stryker probably wouldn't flood the spillway if he saw Logan, and Mystique could easily operate the spillway. Yes, this might work.

"Um," Bobby cleared his throat as all eyes rested on him, "there might be a problem with that plan."

Mystique sneered at him before answering, "What problem are you talking about, boy."

To his credit, Bobby didn't flinch back from her glare, "If they_ do_ have Morgan, and they _are_ controlling her, she'll know that you aren't Logan," he patiently explained, his ice blue eyes glared back at Mystique. She smiled at him, and it wasn't a pleasant smile either.

"Who?" Erik asked, trying to come up with a face for the name.

"Morgan is Charles Xavier's assistant. She was taken captive with the children. She is empathic, in fact she might already know that we are out here," Jean explained, her mind trying to come up with any other alternative type plans. This is Scott's area of expertise; he would have a dozen different strategies at this point.

Jean projected a picture of what Morgan looked like directly into Mystique's brain. Her breath caught in her throat. Mystique then narrowed her strange yellow eyes at Jean, "Some advance warning next time, telepath." Jean chuckled darkly. Erik couldn't help wondering, if Jean Grey was going through some change as of late. There were some definite personality modifications going on in there.

"You know, we are expecting some reinforcements. I think we should think about waiting for them…" Jean added.

"Nein, we can't wait," Kurt interrupted, "Herr Stryker will use his machine as soon as possible. He is so close to his goal, Fräulein, he will proceed quickly; waiting is not a good idea."

"Yeah, the elf is right," Logan agreed, earning him a quick grin from Kurt, he seemed to not mind being referred to as an elf. "We need to go in, now."

It all happened so fast.

Several soldiers went into the spillway to escort someone who was wandering around out there. Morgan immediately recognized the intruder as the mutant from Xavier's, the one with the metal in his hands. Logan. They had their weapons trained on him, and he was bound with some type of metal restraint. Morgan was surprised that he would allow himself to be taken prisoner. He didn't seem to be the kind of man that could be taken down. She desperately wanted to drop her shields; she needed to get a reading on what was really going on. Unfortunately, there was still enough serum in her that prevented her from disobeying a direct order from Stryker. Annoyance colored her facial expression. How can she help, being so hindered?

Logan quickly glanced around the room; taking in his surroundings. His eyes settled on Morgan's, and cocked his head at her. It was if he was expecting Morgan to do or say something.

Something white flashed in her peripheral vision, interrupting her thoughts, when she turned to get a better look, her eyes widened in surprise. Jonathon was beckoning her over to him. She stepped backwards until her she was against the wall.

"Stay here, out of the way," he whispered in her ear.

Morgan watched as Stryker stared at Logan for a moment before turning back to Lyman.

"The one thing I know better than anyone is my own work. Seal the room. Shoot it," he ordered.

Without hesitation, Lyman pulled his sidearm, aimed and screamed, "Seal the room. Step away!"

As all of the soldiers aimed their weapons, Logan morphed into a blue woman and she proceeded to kick the shit out of those soldiers.

"What the fuck," Morgan muttered to herself. When the corridor was filled with shouting and gunfire, Morgan dropped flat to the ground and covered her ears. The blue mutant was able to fight off all of the soldiers, and slip through the heavy door that effectively sealed them in like a tomb. Morgan slowly pulled herself to her feet and faced Jonathon, her eyes flashed with uncertainty.

"What now?" she asked, her lips barely moving. He smiled, his icy hands softly pushing the tendrils of hair from her eyes. He leaned in and ghosted a kiss over her lips.

"Go with them."

Morgan slowly walked over to the now sealed door to the control room. Stryker was unbelievably angry.

"Can you override the spillway mechanism?" Stryker demanded. His eyes narrowed at his second in charge. He could feel the anger growing like an out of control beast in his chest.

"Everything's controlled from inside that room. That's why the doors are so thick." Lyman explained patiently, without even thinking that he was stating the obvious.

"Oh really?" Stryker scoffed, wanting to back hand him for his stupidity, "get some charges! Blow the doors open!"

He glanced up at the security camera that was pointed at face, giving the mutant inside a clear picture of his failure. He knew that that blue bitch was in there staring back at him, sitting at his control panel, causing who knows what kind of system malfunctions, and mocking him. God damn mutants!

"Take these cameras out."

Lyman aimed his weapon and shot the camera out. Stryker's eyes swept wildly around the room, as his mind attempted come up with some plan. He knew that the mutant could not access his Cerebro from the control room but there were several systems that she could negatively affect in the power grid. Where are those charges?

Stryker noticed that the empath was staring at him expectantly, waiting for her next command.

_The empath._ She must have known and said nothing.

"You," he pointed and beckoned her over, his voice sounded shaky with anger, "you knew that she wasn't Logan, and you said nothing!"

Morgan's eyes flew open with indignation, "I didn't know."

"How is that possible? I've seen what you are capable of."

"You told me to keep my shields up. I feel nothing through my shields," she explained, feeling hurt by is accusation. She desperately wanted his approval; she followed his orders about keeping her shields up. He should be pleased, she thought to herself,

Before he knew what he was doing, Stryker balled up his fist and punched Morgan in the jaw. She fell to the ground in pain. Anger. Indignation. Pain. Anger. It boiled up inside of her. It was white hot, molten flames. It felt like her brain had been set on fire.

"God damnit!" he roared, "Get the hell out of my sight. Go down to the bottom level, find Cyclops, and take out anyone who enters the base."

"Do not look at him, Pari. Keep your eyes down and let that pain burn your brain. Do not drop your shields," Jonathon whispered in her ear.

Morgan nodded.

AN:

Anomalistic psychology is defined as the study of extraordinary phenomena of behaviour and experience, including (but not restricted to) those which are often labeled "paranormal". It is directed towards understanding bizarre experiences that many people have without assuming a priori that there is anything paranormal involved. It entails attempting to explain paranormal and related beliefs and ostensibly paranormal experiences in terms of known psychological and physical factors.

You can actually study this at Goldsmiths, University of London.

Pari is Hindi for fairy or angel, Jonathon's pet name for Morgan


	9. Fighting Back

**Chapter 9: Fighting Back**

As the last molecules of the serum were burned away from her brain, Morgan tried to keep her empathy under control. It certainly wasn't easy. The pain of the initial administration didn't hold a candle to what she was experiencing now. The actual chemical properties of the rawest emotions battled William Stryker's serum for control of her brain. Her mind was a fucking battlefield. Her closed shields were keeping everything nicely contained, as to not alert anyone of her increasing control of self.

She clutched her head in her hands and rolled back and forth on the filthy cement floor, her jaw locked, lips sealed shut. This was quite effective in keeping her as quiet as possible. Besides, from the sound of the soldiers' voices in the hallway- they definitely had bigger fish to fry. 'Mutants had entered the base!' Morgan had heard through the door. Even without opening her shields, she knew that the X-Men were here and they were going to need her help. Scott Summers' optical force blasts made him one of the most lethal mutants known in existence, and Morgan knew that he currently was hell bent on stopping them from entering.

Time was not something that Morgan had an abundance of. She knew that. She also knew that she no longer could put off what needed to be done, even if Stryker still might be able to control her in some way. Morgan slammed her shields down and let everything come screaming out. The pain became instantly manageable. Morgan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She crawled to her feet, fighting dizziness and nausea as she got her bearings.

She didn't feel completely like herself, she still had a need to please that bastard. But since she thought of him as a bastard and it wasn't a thought that only existed deep in her mind, she thought that she might be able to do this.

"Jonathon? Are you here?" She whispered into the empty room, he shimmered into this existence.

"Welcome back, luv," he smiled, leaning casually against a wall, looking part sexy Bollywood movie star and part benevolent guardian angel.

"Was it the emotions that forced it out?" Morgan asked as she began searching the various cabinets and cubbyholes, looking for a weapon. Although she'd be happy with anything that could be used _as a weapon_, Morgan was hoping for a gun.

"Yeah, it was technically a chemical reaction, your emotions versus the crap that that fucking cunt put into your brain," he replied sneering. Morgan chuckled at him, and broke into a dazzling smile as she gestured to the loaded gun that she found in one of the cabinets.

"Do you think it will work for the others? If I overload their systems with strong emotions, cause a chemical reaction, like with me?" Morgan filled one of her pockets with some spare cartridges and tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, hoping that she didn't accidentally shoot anything important off.

"It might… in theory…at least." Morgan walked to the wall that he was leaning against. Placing one hand on either side of his head and she leaned in to brush her lips over his.

"What color are my eyes?" She asked, staring intently into his.

"As blue as the sky on a beautiful summer day, Pari," he answered, his accent thickening with emotion, "you are ready, and I know that you can do this."

"Flirt…" she murmured, running her nose across his jaw line, rememorizing his scent that she remembered to be purely Jonathon. His face began to look translucent, and Morgan could smell the ectoplasm in the air, "You are fading, Jon."

"It's hard holding this shape for too long, I can't stay right now, but I'll be back." He vanished.

"Okay, that's okay. You're right…I can do this."

She scanned the hallway for soldiers, found it to be empty, and left the room to go to the lower level to stop Cyclops from killing those he loved.

Morgan decided to try and hone in on Jean, thinking that if they teamed up, they could take down Scott without hurting him. She followed Jean's emotions like a bloodhound through the darkened room. The hulking machinery that towered over her made her feel insignificant and small. This whole scenario had the makings of a very bad horror film, she thought, the kind that the heroine dies a fruitless and stupid death.

"Her lovers queued up in the hallway…I heard them scratching at the door…I tried to tell her…About Marx and Engels, God and angels…" she sang softly under her breath, hoping that the simple act of singing would calm her nerves, "I don't really know what for…but she looked good in ribbons."

Morgan experienced Jean's terror and anger the moment before the entire room flashed red, and the very foundation of the base shook. She had to leap out of the way when a huge chunk of concrete fell from above. Water began to drip from the large crack above her and there were broken electrical wires sending showers of sparks everywhere. Several leaks were now arcing out from the walls.

"Oh fuck me sideways, really?" she groaned to no one in particular, as she got up from the now damp floor, "murderous mutants, a crazy old fuck with control issues, some naked kickass blue chick, and now the fucking dam is falling down."

As Morgan came to the end of a corridor she saw Scott briskly walking to where Jean was on the ground. She appeared to be unconscious, and one of her legs was bent at an awkward angle. His hand was raised to his visor as he took deadly aim at her. Morgan should have just drained him, which would have been the smart thing to do; instead she panicked and tackled him. She wasn't a complete idiot; she aimed low, and went for his legs. Regrettably, no one had ever informed her that Scott Summer's butt and thighs were made out of adamantium and he does not respond very well to being attacked from the back.

When they hit the ground, he rolled quickly out from under her, and sprung to a fighter's stance. Morgan was still in a daze from running into the Cyclops brick wall but she had enough wits to roll away when he shot at her. The force beams blasted a hole into the concrete about the size of beach ball. As he took aim again, she was ready. Morgan didn't over think this or allow any panic to cloud her judgment this time, instead, her survival instinct took over and she empathically drained him. Cyclops unceremoniously fell to the ground on his ass.

Morgan slowly got up, took one look at him and laughed out loud. The situation was so ludicrous, such a total cluster fuck, such a fubar that she couldn't help but laugh, "Didn't expect that, now did you?"

Even though he was immobilized with apathy, she could feel his determination, the need to finish what he was instructed to do, to kill. It wasn't too hard for her to understand this either, that feeling mirrored her own, only to a much lesser degree. _Fucking Stryker._

When Morgan glanced over at Jean, saw the state that she was, what Scott had done, her anger boiled up, and took over. Before she realized what she was doing, Morgan had shoved Scott onto his back, straddled him, and grabbed the front of his uniform in her fists.

"What the fuck, Scott? What the fuck did you do? That's Jean. You stupid asshole. You almost killed her!" She yelled, spraying spittle in his face.

Scott's mouth was set in a thin, angry line; his fingers grasped her wrists in a tight grip, but they didn't break her hold on his uniform. He said nothing. He didn't have to. She felt his sadness and the utter helplessness that permeated his being, because deep down he was very conscious of his actions. He was begging her for help, using what he knew about her gift of empathy. Morgan released the leather and gently placed her hands on his face.

"Scott, my friend," she paused, knowing that his eyes were locked onto hers, even though his visor prevented her from seeing this. Her fingers caught a bit on the whiskers on his face that had grown during his imprisonment under William Stryker, "this is going to really fucking hurt."

It broke Morgan's heart to watch Scott, writhe and contort in pain but if it was any consolation she could definitely empathize, having been through it herself. However, even though she was compassionate about this pain, there was no way in hell that she was going to physically feel it again herself. Morgan blocked it from entering into her empathically. His fingers dug painfully into the flesh of her arms, as his screams filled the room.

He eventually threw her off as his back bowed up. She hit the floor with a thud, bruising her tailbone but that didn't stop the intense flood of anger and rage that she continued to pour into him. She doubled her efforts, thinking that more was better, since time was of the essence.

His screams abruptly stopped, everything stopped. The room went absolutely silent except the sound of dripping water, and their breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. Scott rolled to his side away from Morgan, his guilt, shame, and contrition choked the air out of her. She took a deep breath and countered it with love, courage, understanding and forgiveness. He shook under the sheer weight of all that had happened to him in the last seventy-two hours. She gave him a minute to collect himself; there wasn't much time but they could afford a moment or two.

"I'm sorry but we don't have time and you need to go to Jean, she's waking…" she whispered, her eyes darting to where Jean lay, moaning.

He jumped to his feet and ran to her, Jean cried out in when Scott clutched her body.

"Jean, no, no, no. It's okay. It's okay. It's me."

"Scott," she breathed.

"I'm so sorry."

Morgan watched as they wrapped themselves around each other in a desperate and longing embrace. She smiled, as their love for each other slammed into her. It took her breath away. Fighting back the tears, she turned away from them, giving them as much privacy as possible.

Her thoughts turned to the other mutant, Yuriko. Morgan wasn't sure if she could release her from the influence of the serum, she probably had been under for a long time. She had to try though; Morgan could not in good conscience allow this to continue, not when she had the ability to help. Even though Morgan wasn't sure what Yuriko was capable of or what her mutation was, it was infinitely better if she was with them and not against them.

Morgan sat on the ground, opened her shields, sought Yuriko out and began the process of reversal. She was correct in thinking that it was going to be difficult; there was so much serum in her system. Morgan clutched her head and concentrated harder, ignoring the searing pain in her own head. She laughed darkly because Stryker was going to lose his last little mutant pet.

"I thought I'd lost you." Jean whispered, clutching Scott tight.

"Oh God." He pulled back from her, took a deep breath and caught her lips with his own, and kissed her desperately. It felt like he just came home. Scott was home.

"I'm so sorry. I could see you but I couldn't stop myself," he explains needlessly.

_I know Scott. I know. _

"I tried. I'm sorry."

_You have nothing to be sorry about. I could hear your thoughts underneath it all. You didn't want to hurt me. I know that._

"I love you so much."

_As I love you._

Scott wrapped his hands around her shoulders to help her up and she cried out in intense pain.

"My leg."

_I think it's broken, Scott. _

"Okay, easy. Easy," he whispered, pulling her up into a standing position, supporting her weight onto him. He surveyed the room quickly for any threats. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was taking back his command.

His eyes fell on Morgan. She was sitting on the floor, her eyes focused on one of the massive bulkheads in front of her. Her whole body was shaking in exertion.

"Morgan?"

She did not answer, nor acknowledge him. Scott turned to Jean in alarm. She gentle touched his jaw, running her fingers over his skin. He let a slow breath out.

"Give her a moment Scott, she is working to free the mutant called Yuriko," Jean explained, after speaking to Morgan telepathically. She was absolutely fascinated by Morgan's process that apparently acts as an anecdote to the serum. Morgan was empathically forcing pure emotions in Yuriko, which then changed into hormones, chemicals that counteracted the serum. Simply amazing.

Morgan let out a deep breath, stretched her arms in front of her, turned and grinned at them.

"One more for our side," she reached up and swiped at her nose, looking at the blood on her hand before shrugging.

"You okay?" Scott asked, extending his hand to her, offering a hand up. She gladly took it, hugging them both once she was on her feet, paying heed to Jean's injured leg.

"Well, I certainly could use some Tylenol right now, but yeah I'm…um…" she stopped in midsentence, took a shaky breath in. Morgan's face split into a wide smile, mirroring Jean's because she heard their thoughts the very moment Morgan felt their emotions.

"Good news, Cyclops, reinforcements just arrived."

John had his shark faced lighter in his hand.

_Click_

_Whoosh _

This is fucking retarded. Making us wait here. Fuck! With my fire and Bobby's ice, they should have begged us to go in there with them.

_Click _

_Whoosh_

We are fucking Alpha level mutants, for fuck sake! Who the fuck gives them the right to tell me what to do?

_Click _

_Whoosh_

Magneto is right. I am a god among insects. Fucking Homo sapiens, one tiny little step above the apes. I am St. John fucking Allerdyce. Pyro. My real name is Pyro. I am Pyro.

_Click_

_Whoosh _

Fuck this shit.

"That's it," John growls as he gets up and hits the switch to lower the gangplank of the jet, and grabs his jacket. Bobby looks up, and sadly sighs.

"Whoa. Where do you think you're going?" Bobby asks, already knowing the answer. He was surprised that John had lasted this long.

"I'm sick of this kid's table shit. I'm going in there," John explains, smirking at them, daring Bobby with his eyes to come with him, knowing that he wouldn't.

"John, they told us to stay here." Rogue whined. John stared at Bobby, not Rogue. She would stay because Logan told her to, but perhaps Bobby might…

Come on Bobby, are this whipped? Really? For a piece of ass that you'll never be able to tap? Whatever. Stay here and be Xavier's golden boy, you can take Summer's place, when he gets too old to kick ass.

"You always do as you're told?" John said as his final parting shot. He walked onto the snow, wrapping his jacket a bit more snugly around himself. He then turned and started to walk in the direction of the military base.

John Allerdyce was gone less than five minutes.

Bobby and Rogue were startled by loud voices raised in anger, they both turned around just in time to see John being frog marched back up the gangplank by Remy LeBeau. He shoved John down into one of the chairs, grabbed the hand rests with his fingers, and leaned in until his face was mere inches away from John.

"Y' keep y'r fuckin' mouth shut, boy!"

John tilted the chair back, trying to put some distance between himself and Remy, and wisely obeyed the order to remain silent. Ever since coming to the school, John had made a point to avoid Remy LeBeau. John like to think that he can read people very well, and after months of observation he concluded that Gambit was unpredictable, had a volatile temper, and had powers that he didn't talk about. John instinctively knew that those characteristics where a big red flashing light that screamed 'danger'. And up until five minutes ago, John had flown under this particular radar.

"Y' think y' so smart. How dare y' even think about threatenin' me? When y' are given an order, Pyro, y' obey!"

John nodded his head quickly. Never in a million years would John have expected that Gambit took his position in the X-Men so seriously. He seemed to be so lackadaisical around Cyclops, forever pushing buttons, and disobeying orders. John didn't understand the dynamics of their relationship. That mistake nearly cost him his life when he challenged Gambit's authority by saying there was no way in hell he was going back to the jet, threw a fireball at him, and then tried to continue on to the base.

"Y'r lucky I didn't blow y'r sorry ass up," Remy yelled, his eyes flashing in anger. He wanted to take this kid out into the woods and cut a switch. He wanted to shake the little fire starter until he understood the danger he just put himself in. But most of all Remy wanted to yell at himself for reacting as badly as he did, the kid did what he would have done at his age.

"I'm sorry," John mumbled under his breath, his eyes were still wide in fear, "I just couldn't stay cooped up in here anymore."

"That is understandable, young man," Hank McCoy replied, placing a large blue paw on Remy's shoulder to calm him down, "but next time, please consider the ramifications of your actions."

"Right," Remy breathed, turning towards Bobby, "alright, Iceman. Tell us what you know."

Bobby didn't get a chance to convey any information that he knew of.

All the mutants fell to the floor and writhed in pain.

The song: Ribbons by The Sisters of Mercy


	10. The Pendulum

**Chapter 10: The Pendulum**

A pendulum.

Swinging.

Back and forth.

Stryker was going to use his Cerebro any minute now.

Morgan was pretty sure that Jean could get through to Charles if given half a chance.

The dam was starting to collapse.

They still had time to get the fuck out of here.

Remy, Hank and Warren had come to save the day.

A dozen soldiers were probably guarding Cerebro.

The clock was ticking. Morgan could feel it, almost like a steady thump in her head.

Impending doom.

For whom the bell tolls.

The mother of all cluster fucks.

Scott, Jean and Morgan were moving fast, but not fast enough for Morgan's comfort. For fuck sake, can't they feel that time was most assuredly not on their side? She ran her fingers through her tangled hair in bitter frustration. Jean's injured leg was really slowing them down. Just as Morgan was about to suggest that Scott should just pick her up and carry her bridal style, Jean unexpectedly stopped moving. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes flew open in alarm.

"Cerebro," Jean gasped, "we're too late," both of the mutants fell to the ground, screaming.

Jonathon abruptly appeared in front of Morgan, his eyes were wide in fear. The combined pain of every mutant in the vicinity hit her before she could register what Jonathon was screaming at her to do.

"Close your shields!"

Morgan fell to the ground as well, clutching her head in agony. It took her about ten seconds before she was able to close herself off from the carefully orchestrated monstrosity that was happening to just about everyone that she cared about. Jonathon grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up to a standing position.

"Get to Cerebro, Morgan," Jean moaned aloud, "and try to stop Charles…"

Morgan took off in a dead run, deftly avoiding a large pool of water and the flying sparks from the broken electrical lines. She ran up a flight of stairs, taking two at a time, pushing the door open without a care of who might be on the other side but then stopped dead in a darkened corridor, unsure of which direction to go.

"Fuck," she whispered into the dark, her eyes searched the shadows for soldiers.

"Go about halfway down and there's a door on the right, it connects to the corridor closest to Cerebro," Jonathon's ghostly disembodied voice instructed her, "and don't worry. There are no soldiers left alive."

"Thanks."

Morgan arrived just in time to see Magneto and Mystique quickly walking away the opposite direction from Cerebro. Neither of them noticed her as they turned the corner and left. She was unsure if she should try to stop them, or allow them to go. Truthfully, she doesn't even know if her power would affect Erik while he was wearing his helmet, knowing that it keeps Charles out of his head. Looking on the bright side, she deduced that if they are vertical and walking around, that means that some how Cerebro was shut down. Morgan dropped her shields to confirm this. The pendulum was swinging back their way, and it was about fucking time.

"Oh fuck them," she mumbled to herself, throwing a nice two finger British salute in their general direction. Morgan decided to let sleeping dogs lie and figured that the X-Men could deal with the Brotherhood of Mutants at some future date and there was no need for Charles Xavier's personal assistant to get involved at this point in time.

The corridor in front of Cerebro was littered with the bodies and body parts of Stryker's soldiers. Blood and other unidentifiable fluids covered the floor and walls. She stopped and took several chests full of air to fight back a wave of nausea, as she gingerly stepped onto patches of dry grey concrete, weaving her way around dismembered body parts to a closed circular door.

"That's weird," she whispered aloud, placing her fingers onto the cold steel. She could empathically feel Charles on the other side, but he was still subdued by that other mutant. She could connect with both of them but was powerless to influence either one of them. Morgan banged her fist against the door in frustration before deciding to concentrate harder. She ground her teeth and focused everything that she had. Nothing. They were both too powerful for her. Hot tears leaked down her face, she swiped at them in anger and focused once again. This time, she broke through but it wasn't Charles or the other mutant, it was something else. Whatever it was, it was very massive and connected to Charles, and it grabbed her and pulled her in. Morgan had never felt anything like this. Her empathic power swelled and grew under the influence of Charles Xavier being connected to almost every human being on earth. She found herself unwilling to break away from Charles; the power that was now coursing through her body was too exhilarating, too addictive, she craved more.

"Pari, you have to break off," Jonathon whispered in her ear. She ignored him.

"It's too much, love. You aren't ready for this," he gently stroked the bruised skin of her jaw where Stryker had punched her. She continued to ignore him. He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He faded away as the room behind her filled with mutants.

"Vhat is this?" Kurt asked, clutching at the beads of his rosary, crossing himself as he looked at the carnage of dead soldiers before him. He wished that he could grab the innocent hands of every child behind him and take them away from this place; no child should ever have to see this.

Kurt glanced curiously at the woman standing with her back to them, her hands raised, fingers splayed apart on the door, her whole body was trembling. He figured that this must be the empath that Bobby spoke of in the jet. Morgan.

"Cerebro," Ororo answered his question, warily eyeing Morgan who hadn't yet to acknowledge them. Storm didn't know if she might still be under the influence of Stryker.

"Morgan?" Storm murmured her name quietly; unsure if she should truly try to get her attention, but she knew one thing for sure: something was decidedly not right.

Ororo abruptly turned around as Scott shouted her name from behind. He was fully supporting an injured Jean on his hip.

"Jean, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"What's happening?" Ororo demanded, her eyes turning back to Morgan and the closed door of Cerebro.

"The professor is still in there…and he's with another mutant," Jean pauses as her eyes narrow, "he is trapped in some kind of illusion and… Morgan…she's empathically linked to Cerebro, which is …connected with _everyone_-" Jean's voice waivered as her telepathy searched for the answer that was alluding her. She founsd it in the mind of Erik Lensherr, who so happened to have removed his helmet at that exact moment.

"Oh my God…Magneto has reversed Cerebro. It's not targeting mutants anymore…"

"Who is it targeting?" Scott interrupted.

"Everyone else," Jean whispered.

Morgan suddenly screamed in pain, clutched her head as she fell heavily to the ground onto her back.

"Everyone- stand back," Scott ordered, his fingers flew to the control of his visor as he gently pushed Jean off from his hip.

"Scott, no. His mind is connected to Cerebro. Opening the door…could kill him and everyone his mind is linked to," she explained, knowing that he already knows this, he just hasn't thought it through rationally. Storm glanced over at Kurt, knowing now what needed to be done, even though the very idea scared her to death. Teleportation.

"Doctor Grey?" Jean painfully pivoted around to look at Jubilee, whose eyes were as big as saucers, and the color had completely drained from her face.

"What is it Jubilee?"

"Morgan is not breathing," she whispered, pointing to the prone body of Morgan near the door. Scott immediately focused in on Morgan's chest, which indeed was not rising and falling with air exchange.

"Fuck," he yelled, as he flew past Ororo and Kurt, who was having some strange conversation about teleportation and faith. Scott knelt beside Morgan in less than two seconds, his fingers were already expertly palpating for her carotid artery.

"No pulse," he said, looking up at Jean, she painfully lowered herself down next to Morgan's face, she then leaned over, assured that she had an open airway and gave her two quick breaths of air. Scott waited a moment as Morgan's chest rose and fell from Jean's rescue breaths; he then positioned himself over her and began chest compressions.

"Don't believe anything you see in there," Jean said as Kurt began to recite the Lord's Prayer. Storm threw her arms around Kurt and they both disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

"Hello? Is everybody all right over there?" Warren's asked through the communicator, his voice sounded shaky and unsure. That was probably the first time Remy had heard anything affect the cool and collected angelic X-Man. They had decided ahead of time that it would be better if he stayed with their jet, just in case they needed a backup plan.

"Yeah, we're okay. I almost blew de damn jet up, it activated my powers," Remy replied, cracking his neck, and shaking his tingling fingers out.

"That was Cerebro, wasn't it?" Warren asked.

"Unquestionably," Hank answered. He was applying firm direct pressure to the back of John's head with a towel. He had fallen backwards onto a steel box on the floor, when the wave struck and had a pretty nasty gash.

"Fuck, that hurts," John groaned, "Hey Doc…I'm really diz…" Hank rubbed John's cheek with the back of his hand when John's eyes started to slip shut.

"John, you need to stay awake. I think you might have a concussion. Robert, go get the small med kit from the back, he'll needs an ice pack." Hank ordered and he decided that he wasn't going to mention to John that he probably would need some stitches as well.

"Okay." Bobby quickly left. John smiled weakly down at Rogue who was on her hands and knees on the floor using a wet towel to clean his blood up.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking mildly embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it, John. This isn't as half as bad as when you and Bobby drank all that SoCo and you guys puked in the Gazebo," Rogue quipped, her eyes crinkling in amusement; she then reached over and gently squeezed his knee.

"God, don't mention that right now, my stomach is not so good," he answered, his voice slurring over his words.

"Keep talking to him, Rogue," Hank said, smiling at her.

"Y' got dis?" Remy quietly asked Hank, gesturing towards John with a nod.

"This is completely under control. What is our next course of action, Gambit?" Beast asked, officially recognizing him as this mission's leader. Remy stood up and began patting the pockets of his long black leather duster that he always wore over his uniform. Old habits die hard, and there will never be a time that Remy LeBeau doesn't need several pockets.

"Alright, I think that de best plan would be that Angel takes to de air to keep an eye on what's goin' on and I am goin' in there." Remy said authoritatively.

"Sounds like a plan, Gambit. I'll keep you apprised of the situation from above. Angel-out."

Remy heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn't completely sure that Warren would accept him as the leader. They have had their differences in the past.

"If that dam goes, y' get de jet in de air."

"Good luck, Gambit."


End file.
